


Dug too deep

by JauntyHako



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Bad Courser and Captured Railroad Agent, Grieving, M/M, Post-Game, Roleplay, Sunglasses wearing power couple, also quickies and emotional cowardice, botched love confessions, you can't tell me that isn't one of Deacon's fantasies in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Institute's destruction, Deacon and X6-88 strike up an odd friendship, bonding over the extortion of hapless Minutemen and their mutual inability to honestly express their feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Digging deeper

“Look, pal. My partner and I have made you a very sensible offer. Right, X6?”

Deacon turned to look at the courser who towered behind him, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, the same as he wore.

“Very sensible.” he confirmed.

Deacon threw his arm around the hapless Minuteman shaking in his boots and very grateful that he was sitting down, fearing his legs might give out under him, were he to stand.

“See? He agrees. So how about we make this nice and easy and you hand over the goods.”

“It's just …” The Minuteman said, a remarkable show of willpower, considering he was currently face to face with two of the most dangerous and elusive people in the entire Commonwealth.

“Yes? Do speak your mind, friend. We're always happy to take suggestions.”

“Within reason.” X6 added and though his expression didn't change and his voice was as neutral as ever, to the Minuteman those two words sounded as if someone was already on its way with the thumbscrews.

“We don't … I mean, the General said we don't need to share our rations. The General said if you two try to bribe us again we should report it.”

Deacon made a scandalised noise, conveying with a few wordless syllables the entire range of hurt and betrayal at an order like this.

“Did you hear that, X6?” he asked, clutching his chest.

“I did.” X6 said and the Minuteman could have sworn he sounded slightly disappointed. Not a good sign, if there ever was one.

“We would _never_ bribe you. That would be against the rules. See it as … bartering. We protect you from trouble so you can have your lunch in peace. And all we ask in return, for this considerable service, is this tiny box of centuries old stale cakes. That's not too much to ask, is it?”

The Minuteman knew a lost battle when he saw one.

“I suppose …” he said and shrunk into himself when the coursers eyes fell on him again. At least that's what he assumed. It was hard to tell behind those glasses.

“Wonderful. Oh,” Deacon added as he snatched the box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. “And I don't think there's need to tell the General, do you? It's all so busy these days, I'm sure they wouldn't want to know about our little … trade.”

The Minuteman could only nod and watch as Deacon and X6 strolled out of the mess hall, their alleged promise to protect him already forgotten. Not that he minded. The security of any given position increased by several dozen percent when those two left.

 

“There you go.” Deacon said, throwing X6 the box.

The courser made a non-committal sound, but reached inside and fished one cake out of its confinement, unwrapping it expertly and taking a bite with a barely perceptible sound of pleasure.

“You know.”, he continued as they rounded the corner and wandered across the courtyard at a leisurely pace. “If you had a little more self-control and didn't gorge yourself on your own cake rations the moment you get them, we wouldn't need to extort people.”

“I am not 'gorging myself'.” X6 said and Deacon swore he'd be impressed at his haughty tone if he didn't also have a few crumbs of cake on the corner of his mouth.

He smiled and brushed his thumb over his own mouth. X6 got the clue and wiped away the crumbs before picking out another cake.

“Just sayin', the boss will be pissed. Probably give us the Teamplayer-lecture again.”

X6 acted as if he wasn't impressed but the cake he'd just taken out slid back into the box and stayed there. At least for the next half hour or so.

“So, what do you wanna do next?” he asked, never being one to stay quiet for long.

They rounded the courtyard, past the little farm plot that was slowly being converted into a vertical farm to give them more space and fewer pests, and along the catwalk that the few remaining soldiers of the Brotherhood who had chosen to stay in the Commonwealth, had built to seal one of the larger holes in the Castle walls. Deacon waved to the guard on duty, one of the former Institute synths he thought, but couldn't be sure. A lot of people had joined up with the Minutemen since the Institute's destruction, some more enthusiastic, some less so. Between coursers, paladins and everyone else, it was a miracle the General kept it all together with only minor bruises.

“I believe it would be advisable to check the job board for assignments, before all the good ones are gone.” X6 said, causing Deacon to show him his best pouty face. It never had any effect, but it didn't stop him from trying.

“Working? Already? Come on, have some fun once in a while.”

“The Director is due to return tomorrow noon. If we were to be out on a mission, we can almost certainly avoid a lecture.”

Deacon's face lit up.

“X6, my friend, you're a genius.”

 

The truth was, X6 was not only a genius but also rapidly approached the territory of 'good friend'. It wasn't a completely unfamiliar situation for Deacon. He had a lot of friends, some of which he even trusted. More or less. X6 he trusted as much as he could anyone, but there were things, rather large life-defining things X6 didn't know about him. Namely that Deacon was his declared enemy, a delusional saviour of malfunctioning machines and the very thing he was taught to kill on sight, preferably sooner. Which would have been fine if not for the fact that this secret was bound to get out sooner or later. He decided a while ago that he would enjoy this as long as it happened to last and get in as much trouble as he could along the way.

The job board offered a few opportunities that were suited to their particular skills. Which weren't inconsiderable. Deacon suspected the General would have separated them a long time ago if it weren't for the fact that they got results. X6 liked to kill people, Deacon liked to save them and between them they mostly managed to do both.

“Raiders holed up here, got hostages. Takers get stealth boys. What do you say?”

It was a perfect mission for them, but X6 hadn't even listened. He surveyed the board and Deacon, though generally a fan of shades, would give a day's rations to see the expression on X6's face. He got the first clue only when he brushed gingerly against another note pinned to the wall. Deacon took a closer look. It called for help clearing the rubble of what had been the Institute, an ongoing project that so far had brought them only callouses. The General hoped to salvage some technology and rescue synths trapped under debris. There was no evidence that anyone had survived the blast but Deacon knew, and was appreciative, that the General would sooner eat glass than potentially leave people to die.

“Wanna go over there and help out?” Deacon asked, knowing X6 would never suggest it himself.

“It would be a waste of our skills.” he replied. He was right, of course, but Deacon knew that X6 had difficulty with his own emotional processes and hadn't yet grasped the concept of grieving in a healthy manner. When sorrow overcame him, which was rarely enough, it took the form of violent outbursts against anyone close by. Which used to be various innocent people until Deacon first stepped in, providing an outlet for X6 and making sure that no one got hurt.

“Skills shmills, let's do it. Could be fun.”

It spoke for the intensity of whatever it was X6 was feeling that he didn't argue more. He merely took up the pen and signed their names on the note, declaring they'd take the job. His handwriting was neat and tidy, the complete opposite of Deacon's own. The General accused him on several occasions of drawing crude pictures on the notes when in reality he'd been scrawling his own name. They decided to depart early the next morning and get some rest before what would be days of dull but hard work.

 

The moment they arrived at the dig site they had shovels thrust into their hands.

“Here's what you need to know.” the overseer, a former brotherhood scribe Deacon thought was called Haylen said. “You get three meals a day, the bunks are over there.” She pointed to a series of hastily erected trailers, each one offering no more than space for two. “Let the dogs work in peace and if you find anything, it goes on the pile for inspection over there.”

Someone had put up tables on which to place anything worthwhile. As far as Deacon could see the collectiong consisted of a single fusion core and half a Gen 1 arm.

“What if we find any _one_?” Deacon asked with his best winning smile. Haylen didn't reciprocate. His question seemed to take the air out of her.

“Then you call me. But don't get your hopes up. We've been digging for weeks and nothing. On that note, we might call on you to hide in the rubble every now and then.”

At both their raised eyebrows, she added: “It's the dogs. They get depressed when they don't find anyone alive. Now, get to work you two.”

They did, making their way into what looked like a quarry shaken by a tornado. Open elevators led down into the deep. The ride went on for minutes, showing the Institute's paranoia and the rescue teams dedication. In the beginning only Brotherhood soldiers and scribes worked on the site, claiming they had the superior expertise working with collapsed structures. The danger of burying people under shifting rubble was too great. Now though the site was secure and anyone could dig to their hearts content.

It turned out the pile on top wasn't the actual pile. When Deacon and X6 stepped out of the elevator on the bottom, they were greeted with a much larger assortment of salvage, mostly the remains of Gen 1s and 2s, though some other interesting technology was among that. Tinker Tom would have loved to get his hands on some of those items.

They picked a spot apart from the others and started working. If Deacon thought X6 would turn sentimental upon seeing his destroyed home, he was wrong. With nothing, neither word nor gesture, did he indicate feeling any particular way about this place. It was like any other destroyed building in the Commonwealth. Only that it wasn't.

Within their first hour they found the remains of two Gen 1s, torn to pieces by the explosion or the firefight before. Deacon always kept neutral on the recurring argument of which synths needed saving, but even he couldn't deny the unsettling stone in his gut at finding an arm or a leg still moving with residual energy but apart from its actual body.

At least they didn't find any organic bodies. They dug through the rubble, X6 with his quiet dedication, Deacon with a constant stream of complaints starting at hour two, and got no closer to finding anything worthwhile, be it technology, a survivor or closure.

“So.” he said after running out of ways to combine swearwords with everyday objects. Nothing could ever beat cunttruck. “What's it like being back?”

X6 regarded him with a cool glance. Deacon spent enough time wearing his own glasses to spot the miniscule differences in expression around the eyes that indicated that in this particular case the wearer of the shades wished him to shut up.

“It was your idea coming here.” he said with such conviction for a second Deacon was sure it _had_ been his idea.

“Sure, of course. Totally my plan. Still. Must be weird.”

It was obvious X6 didn't want to talk about it. He dug his shovel deep into the rubble and managed to accidentally on purpose cover Deacon's feet in dirt.

“I don't do 'weird'.” he simply said and that was all he got out of him.

 

Weeks hanging around at the Castle with only minor distractions (and a hell of a partner to make missions easier) Deacon had forgotten what real hard work felt like. When X6 gave him privilege of the top bunk without so much as an argument he felt like kissing him. But the moment his head hit the pillow he was wide awake. Deacon rolled his eyes at no one in particular. So it would be one of _those_ nights. He knew from experience that trying to get up and get something productive done wouldn't work. There was nothing for it but to stare at the roof of the trailer and count brahmin.

He was sure X6 wanted to come here, needed to in fact. Occasionally he caught him speaking of the Institute in the present tense, as if its people were still around. He never corrected his mistake but by the thin line of his lips Deacon knew he noticed every time. At first he thought the courser was homesick, disdainful as he was of the Commonwealth and everything to do with it. But he barely acknowledged the remaining Institute synths or scientists. Instead he hung around Deacon, allowing himself to be drawn into mischief at every given opportunity. Even for Deacon, who'd observed coursers for years, it didn't make sense. Not that he wasn't happy about that. He was. He hadn't this much fun since traveling with the General. Only sleeping had become a chore, when his thoughts would orbit around the ever enigmatic topic that was X6's emotions. Now there was a person who was even more secretive about his inner workings than Deacon himself was and it drove him mad. All he wanted was to crack that shell and see what was inside, not necessarily the entire backstory – tit for tat and he wasn't really ready to give up his own just yet – but some clue as to what he was feeling, about the Institute, life in general, Deacon. If he fantasised about kissing him or wondered what he looked like naked and … ah. Shit.

Alright, so he had a teeny weeny crush on X6. Hardly the worst late night epiphany. It explained some things, like why Deacon had a fairly good idea what X6 looked like naked, thanks to communal showers and the art of stealing subtle glances. Now he had to talk to him.

“X6?” he whispered. There was no answer.

“Hey. X6.” he repeated, a bit louder. Still no reaction. He leaned over the bed to see if X6 was just messing with him. He usually slept so light.

“Wake up!”

“ _What is it_?”

Deacon dodged the thrown pillow and settled back, arms crossed behind his head.

“Do you think deathclaws have feelings?”

He decided to talk to him. Nowhere did it say it had to be about his feelings. He heard a distinct groan and shuffling.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Can't.”

“Then at least leave me alone.”

“Oh come on. We could host an impromptu slumber party. Gossip about our crushes. Braid each other's hair.”

“Neither you nor I have enough hair to do that.”

“I have a wig -”

“No.”

The tone was definite and allowed no room for argument. Shame. Deacon had been hoping for a chance to dress X6 up. For lack of a better alternative he pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes, figuring he'd pretend to sleep until his brain got the idea. Silence settled in the trailer, interrupted only by the faraway sounds of the night crew digging ever deeper. He wondered if there was anything to find at all or if he wasted their time coming here in the first place. Even if they found something, or someone, it was unlikely that a courser would have his much needed breakdown at the sight of anything, no matter how much sentimental value it held. And here he had this whole plan set up, X6 crying, Deacon being there with tissues he just happened to have on him. They'd get a little drunk and have a heart to heart and in the morning after all would be better. Perhaps he could squeeze some kissing in there, too. God, kissing X6 sounded nice.

“X6?”

“What now?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. The timing was all wrong. Perhaps it would never be right.

“... nothing.”

X6 groaned and didn't answer. Deacon stared into nothing, listening to his breath even out as he slipped back into sleep. He felt like a coward.

 

The Institute's destruction had been quick and bloody and X6 hadn't been there when it happened. When the news reached him, the General walking on eggshells, not knowing how he'd react, he'd taken them stoically, asked if there was anything more for him to do and continued to take orders as usual. It didn't sit right with Deacon and, looking back, he admitted it might have had something to do with his growing crush on the courser.

He'd hoped to find something in the debris for X6 to confront, something that would allow him to say good bye or formulate some kind of response. But when they did find something other than concrete and steel, Deacon wished he could take X6 as far away as possible.

It was a courser trapped under a massive steel beam. He was conscious but Deacon saw he was breathing his last. He would have been down there for weeks, alone in the dark, with not a sound but his own breathing.

“We got a live one over here!” Deacon shouted as X6 knelt down by the courser, the lines on his face hard and unreadable. Neither was under any delusion that this one could be saved.

“You're … functional.” the courser breathed. He gasped for breath in quick bursts, sucking in the air deep.

“I am. Many of the scientists have survived.” X6 said, quiet but urgent. “They are in need of trained units to perform their duties.”

The lift was lowered, on it a team of medics. Deacon watched them descend with one eye, while keeping the other on X6.

“I'm afraid I'm … irreparably damaged. The bones in my legs have been … shattered.”

The courser stopped breathing. Deacon knew the signs of a slow death, but X6 didn't. He grabbed him by the shoulder, his glasses slid down along his nose and Deacon saw the panic in his eyes. Before he could say something the courser breathed in again, gulping in the air like water. He could go through several of these cycles before dying and Deacon had no idea how long he'd been this close to death.

“New synths can not be manufactured. You will receive prosthetics if the legs can not be saved.”

This was courser talk for 'Don't give up'. Only the fact that he'd known X6 for a while know let him hear the almost imperceptible waver in his voice.

“It's too late.”, the courser said. “I am of no use to the Institute anymore. But you are. You …”

He stopped breathing again. This time it took almost a full minute before he started again. It couldn't take much longer. The dying courser dropped in and out of consciousness while X6 sat by his side, quiet with his hands in his lap. Deacon caught the medics before they reached them, told them with a shake of his head that there was nothing they could do. Any treatment would just prolong the coursers suffering. Attempts to ease it wouldn't work on a synth. They had to sit through it.

It took almost an hour for the courser to die. When he breathed his last he sounded almost relieved, body slacking, eyes closed. Deacon searched for a pulse and found none but he waited until X6 was ready to let go. When he did he helped him to his feet and wordlessly brought him back to their trailer.

 

The best way to celebrate a life and grieve its passing was a whole lot of booze. That and coursers didn't really have mourning traditions of their own.

“Drink.” he said jovially, pouring X6 some of the good whiskey he saved for an occasion like this.

X6 drank and held his glass out once more. He'd have been worried about the courser drinking himself to death if he didn't know about the remarkable resistance synths had to alcohol. The first time he'd challenged Glory to a drinking contest had been somewhat of a rude awakening.

“What was his name, anyway? Or designation.”

“N5-13.” X6 replied as if prompted for random information rather than the name of a person he just watched die.

“To N5 then.”

Their glasses clinked. They drank. Deacon refilled their glasses. They drank again. Scribe Haylen had insisted on them taking the day off while they made sure the body was disposed of with dignity. Deacon wondered what the Institute did with decomissioned synths and asked.

“We get incinerated. There used to be a disposal heap on the surface but that practice was discontinued when sensitive technology got lost.”

Deacon thought of Valentine waking up in a garbage heap. Had the Institute not known he wasn't dead or did they simply not care? Would they at least make sure the synths they incinerated weren't conscious during the process? That was a question he didn't want an answer to and so he went back to drinking, which seemed the only sensible thing to do at the moment. X6 shared that sentiment since he managed to empty within an hour almost an entire bottle of whiskey by himself.

“I hate it here.” X6 suddenly said, setting his glass down with a heavy thud, liquid running down his fingers. Deacon had to resist the urge to lean over and lick them clean.

“Wanna, uh, go back to the Castle?”

“No. I hate it on the surface. This scum-filled festering pile of shit, it makes me sick. I wish Father had never released the Director from the vault.”

It hurt to hear X6 say those things, every time he did. By now he should have been used to it, but it stung nonetheless.

“It's not so bad-” he began and thus almost missed X6 whispering to himself:

“I wish I'd been down there when my home was destroyed.”

His glass clattered to the ground, whiskey spilling on the floor. Deacon didn't care. He grabbed X6 by his coat and pulled him forward, bringing their faces so close together their noses almost touched.

“Don't.” he said, teeth grinded, jaw set. “Ever. Say that.”

They stared at each other and Deacon was at once aware how ridiculous this was. Neither of them could see the others eyes but even so he imagined X6's to look stormy. He didn't appreciate Deacon intruding into his personal space but if that was what it took to keep him from hurting himself, he'd never let go. Even if it meant contending with feeling the coursers hot breath on his cheek, his lips pressed tightly together. He hadn't thought when he planted himself in X6's lap and couldn't help but become uneasy. X6 was as likely to ignore him as he was to attack him right now. His vice-like grip on his coat eased for a second but it was a second too long. X6 surged forward but instead of striking him he captured his lips in a kiss, all teeth and tongue. He bit at Deacon's lower lip hard enough to draw blood, ignored his gasp and pushed his tongue into his mouth while his hands roamed down his body.

Deacon's heart stopped, then beat again twice as fast. If there was one thing he was good at, though, it was rolling with the punches. Instead of overthinking, doubting or questioning the situation he dove right in, taking X6's face between his hands and deepening the kiss, turning it passionate rather than violent. The taste of whiskey lay heavy on his tongue.

They rutted against each other, X6 meeting every roll of his hips with equal force, while his fingers dug into Deacon's skin, keeping him in place, right where he wanted him.

“Stop.” Deacon gasped, forcing himself to slow down. “You don't know what you're doing.”

“I'm not intoxicated enough for my judgement to be impaired.” X6 said, growled and trailed bites disguised as kisses down his throat.

“I mean … God, will you stop for just a second. I'm tryin' to tell you something here. Oh, damn.” he added when X6 bit down hard on his neck and sucked at the spot, lapping at it with his tongue. That'd leave a hickey. He'd have to make sure to cover it up, provided X6 didn't kill him for what Deacon was about to tell him. But he needed to. He was the first to admit he was morally ambiguous, but sleeping with someone under false pretenses crossed several lines.

“I'm Railroad. I'm a Railroad agent.” he said quickly, bracing for impact. None came.

“I know.” X6 merely said and continued as if nothing happened.

“You know?” Deacon echoed, losing his rhythm for a bit.

“Yes. Now shut up.”

He did, mostly because he had no idea what to say. X6 gave him an excuse to stop thinking at all when he shoved his hands down his pants and jerked his cock roughly. He exhaled sharply, arched his back, seeking more friction.

“Fuck yes. Let me …”

Getting through several layers of courser uniform turned out to be a challenge. He knew there was a reason he liked X6 better in the white jumpsuit. Only one zipper. But he did manage to pull off his coat with some help and freed his cock from the black pants. It lay thick and heavy in his hand, the base completely hairless, twitching when Deacon gave it a cursory stroke. He didn't get a reaction which would have been frustrating if he didn't also enjoy a little challenge. He'd get some noises out of X6 yet. He sped up, went back in for another kiss while pressing their bodies closer together. X6 was rough, pumped him hard and fast, just this side of pain. This wouldn't last long, neither wanted it to. Deacon licked into his mouth, chased the faint hint of mint underneath the alcohol. X6 bucked his hips against him and Deacon loosened his grip on his cock, grinning when X6 cursed him faintly.

“You wanna cum? Gotta work at it.”

X6 glared but pulled him close, nose buried in the crook of his shoulder as he fucked into Deacon's fist, squeezing his cock hard to remind him who was in charge.

It was over almost as soon as it began, X6 spilled his release into Deacon's hand, groaning softly against his neck. The sound was enough to send Deacon over the edge as well, cumming all over X6's stomach, soaking his shirt. It made him regret they hadn't bothered to undress. He would have given a lot to see X6's skin marked with his cum. Next time that's what he'd do. If there was a next time.

He slumped out of X6's lap and leaned against the bed, softening cock hanging out of his pants. Right now he was too lazy to tuck himself back in.

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” he asked after a while, during which X6 remained stubbornly silent.

The courser shrugged, reached for his glass, still half filled with whiskey.

“I always wanted to do this.” he said. So he had seen someone die and got reminded of his own mortality. It was an oddly human reaction, not least because Deacon had until now no idea coursers had bucket lists.

“Have sex?”

“Initiate it.”

“Oh.”

X6 hummed, not explaining further, for which Deacon was grateful. It wasn't like he didn't know what happened to some synths at the Institute. He'd just always hoped that somehow X6 didn't belong to them. He never liked thinking about horrible things happening to his friends. Which reminded him of the other issue that needed addressing.

“How long have you known I'm with the Railroad?”

“Since the beginning.”

“And you never said anything?”

The answer to that, it appeared, was not so easily given. X6 traced the rim of his glass, staring down at the golden liquid. It seemed the right time to put an arm around his shoulders and nudge him lightly.

“It doesn't matter anymore.” he said at last. “I lost my job and your people are just cleaning up the mess they left behind. If things happened differently, it is very likely I would have killed you and I'd rather not think about that. You're … different than I imagined a member of the Railroad to be.”

“In a good way?”

X6 shrugged.

“Perhaps. You never treated me like a human. You respect me.” he quickly added when Deacon made to protest. “But … people hate synths or use them as tools. Those who don't insist we're human or as good as. But we're not human. I'm a synth and always will be. It was a welcome change to have someone accept my nature as it is and still award me with respect and … affection.”

The last part sounded almost sheepish, hesitant, as if X6 wasn't entirely sure that he had been shown affection instead of imagining it all. Deacon squeezed his shoulder.

“Always happy to treat you like a person.” he said. And then he added, because he was on a roll and never learned to keep his mouth shut. “And now that I know that you know who I work for, I have this idea about a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“The kind that involves me, the captured Railroad agent tied to a chair and you, in the role of the Institute courser sent to interrogate me. I have some nice ideas about techniques that I'm sure you'll find very interesting …”

 


	2. Dug too deep

Several weeks later Deacon's idea bore fruit.

 

“You're a hard man to find.”  
“That's kind of the point.”

X6 chuckled deeply, a disturbing sound if coming from someone holding a firearm with the ease of someone who was familiar with its use.

“That it is. And yet all your efforts still only delayed the inevitable.”

He rounded Deacon's chair with slow steps, that were much quieter than they should be in a man this tall. He followed him with his eyes as far as he could and stared straight ahead until he came into his field of vision again, keeping up the charade of not being bothered by it all.

“That's all life is, delaying the inevitable.” he said and displayed his most charming smile. The corners of X6's mouth twitched, though Deacon couldn't tell if he was having an effect or if he was being patronised.

“Very true. And yet I would not suggest delaying this any further. I have a couple of questions for you and I hope you will show yourself cooperative.”  
“And if I don't want to?” Deacon asked, squirming against his bindings. They were tight, though not so much as to cause him injury. X6 bent forward, leaning on the arm rests to his left and right. His face was inches away from Deacon and even at this distance he still couldn't see past the dark shades.

“Believe me.”, he said, voice low and rumbling. It sent shivers down Deacon's spine. “I can be _very_ persuasive.”  
His cock twitched in his pants at the warning, the _promise_. Deacon chastised it mentally for being overexcited, but the truth was if this had been really about getting information, X6 could have gotten whatever he wanted just by threatening to stop now. He stepped back, once again the emotionless archetype of a courser, nothing in his stance or mimic betraying this was a game. He'd been receptive to Deacon's suggestions, listened with concentration as he explained the whole idea of roleplaying and the appeal it held. And, as Deacon promised, some of the techniques in this alternate way of interrogation did interest him a great deal. He couldn't wait to see them directed at him.

“Tell me about your Railroad friends.” X6 said as he leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed. He gave his target an illusion of safety by being physically too far away to hurt him. Deacon used the same technique before.

“Railroad? Never heard of them.” he said, putting on his best innocent face.

“Don't insult me. Your affiliation with them is well known in the right circles. What about this other agent, Charmer? You two travel together on occasion.”

Deacon's eyebrows rose until they nearly hit his fake hairline.

“Who?” he asked with so much honest bewilderment he thought just for a second X6 was confused. His face was back to its usual stoicism within the blink of an eye, but Deacon couldn't help but feel a little pride.

_Hah. Got ya_

“You know of whom I speak. Don't make this harder on yourself. If you answer my questions truthfully you could turn this situation to your favour.”

“And how's that?”

“The Institute has an abundance of resources. I could arrange for a sizable compensation.”

“Sorry, caps aren't really the driving force in my life.” Deacon said. He had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot when X6 bridged the distance between them until he was close enough that Deacon had to crane his neck to keep up eye contact. He felt oddly vulnerable without his glasses to hide his every expression.

“I never said anything about money.” X6 said and leaned down to capture Deacon's lips in a gentle kiss. His lips were full and soft and melded against Deacon's like they were made to kiss him. He reciprocated immediately, chasing that soft feeling until his shoulders protested when he encountered the resistance the handcuffs provided. X6 pulled away again, the kiss regrettably short, just a hint of what he could have if he yielded. But the game wouldn't be fun if he didn't put up a little more resistance.

“Tempting, tempting.” he said and X6 would never know just how honest he was being. As far as he was concerned they were friends with benefits and Deacon would do his best not to let on how invested he was emotionally.

“Tell me about your colleague, Charmer.” X6 purred and boy, who would have guessed he could be this sensuous? Deacon hadn't and his cock thanked him by giving another hopeful twitch.

“Seriously, no idea who you're talking about. Far as I know, we don't have a Charmer in the Railroad.”

“Are you sure? Then who have you been accompanying when they cleared Dunwich Borers of hostiles? Quite a fight, or so I've heard.”  
Deacon was actually kind of impressed. Only a handful of people knew he'd been with Charmer on that particular mission. Even more impressive since it had nothing to do with the Railroad.  
“What, them? They're just a friend, totally unrelated. Doesn't even know who I am.”

“You're beginning to test my patience.” X6 said and true to his word put just enough of a strain in his voice for Deacon to pick up on it. He chose to up the stakes a little.

“Listen, pal, if you think I'm gonna sell out anyone to you guys, Railroad or no, you're mistaken.”

“We'll see about that. If it interests you, I already know about Charmer's involvement with the Railroad. I was trying to see if you would tell me the truth. Now that I know the answer, how about we get on with the real questions?”

“Shoot, big guy. Don't expect me to answer, though.”

When X6 laughed again, a low sound shooting straight down Deacon's spine, it occurred to him that this was the courser in his element. Through the weeks they spent together, getting into trouble, getting out of trouble, getting scolded for getting into trouble by the General murmuring something about having created a monster, Deacon had always been the one to do the talking. X6 kept back, aided, supported but there was a certain awkwardness to all his interactions. He'd assumed it was part of his personality, but now he rapidly learned that until now X6 had just been out of his comfort zone. And right now he was firmly nestled within it and Deacon was trapped there with him. He swallowed in giddy anticipation.

X6 stepped behind him and lowered himself until his lips brushed Deacon's ear.

“You will talk.” he whispered and gently grazed his teeth over the shell.

Deacon shivered, clenching and unclenching his bound hands behind the chair, wishing he could reach up and pull him down for a proper kiss and make-out. Instead he was forced to endure the coursers feather light touches, skimming down his sides, barely disturbing his skin, the touch only felt through the moving fabric of his t-shirt. He was acutely aware of his presence behind him, the smell of leather filling his nose, the warmth covering him like a blanket. He was a good actor, a good liar really, but even so it took every trick he had up his sleeve not to sink back, close his eyes and trust X6 to make him feel good. He was to pretend being afraid of him. Snuggling up and calling him honeybear would be counterproductive.

X6's lips trailed down the back of his ear and along his neck, drawing a dry, burning line into the crook of his shoulder. He felt him draw in a deep breath and hum so softly, Deacon didn't hear the sound, only felt the subtle vibration on his skin. He was tempted to counter it with a sigh of his own.

“If I'd known that's your idea of torture, I would have let myself get captured a long time ago.”

“You're hasty in your assessment.” X6 said as he brushed his fingertips over Deacon's collarbones, goosebumps trailing the touch. “I know your type. You're all about instant gratification. I'm curious to see what will happen if I withhold it.”  
As was Deacon. X6 was right, he did favour a quick rump over long drawn-out sessions, lacked the patience and discipline to keep it going for long. Already he felt himself getting worked up over all these barely there touches, enough to bait him, to make him think more would come any second now. Those luscious lips were the worst of all. They were back again on his nape, placing chaste close-mouthed kisses on his neck bones. If he didn't know any better Deacon could have sworn X6 enjoyed this opportunity to explore every inch of him as much as he did. He wondered what this was for him. Stress relief? Another form of platonic intimacy perhaps, something to do with a friend when your boss told you in clear words to stop extorting innocent people for their snack desserts. Or more. There was the nagging thought at the back of Deacon's mind that insisted they never talked about their feelings for each other. He couldn't be sure X6 _wasn't_ a little bit in love with him. That train of thought he stalled right at the start. He didn't need his heart broken right now. Best to enjoy what he'd been given, which wasn't to be scoffed at.  
X6 covered his shoulders with his hands and caressed his arms with slow motions, the first real substantial touch they shared since the first kiss. It spoke for Deacon's desperation that this alone made him close his eyes in bliss and bite his cheeks to keep from making appreciative sounds. Damn that synth for knowing him so well. Usually foreplay a la Deacon amounted to what time it took to get his dick out of his pants. This was new and exciting and all the more frustrating since he couldn't do anything to hurry it along. He tugged at the rope that kept him secured to the chair and of course X6 noticed. Deacon swore he could feel him smiling against his neck.

“You want more, don't you?” he asked and Deacon only so kept himself from nodding furiously.

 _Of course I want more_ , he thought to himself. _Have you looked in the mirror lately? I want you riding my cock like yesterday_.

But he didn't say anything and gritted his teeth when X6 licked a wet stripe from the collar of his shirt right up to where his fake hair began. Then he was gone again and Deacon could have cursed, would have in fact but that would mean giving up. He'd show him that he could deal with a little teasing. No task too challenging for the D-Man. X6 walked into his line of sight again as calm and collected as if he'd just gone out for a smoke. Deacon expected him to lean against the wall again, make a show of denying him any physical contact and was surprised. His warm hands cradled Deacon's cheek, his thumb following the line of his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. He blinked and looked up with slightly parted lips.

“I'll admit I'm impressed with the Railroad.” X6 said and it took Deacon a second or two to remember they were still roleplaying. “Dr Zimmer was furious when you stole his best courser. You even got him to mock the Institute in his holo-messages.”

“Self-determination is not a malfunction.” Deacon said, subconsciously leaning further into the touch. “And I thought that case was closed to you.”

“It is. Consider it doing me a … personal favour.”

To give him the last incentive he needed X6 dragged his thumb over Deacon's lower lip, pressing down just hard enough to make him feel it.  
“I don't know who he is now. If he even still is a he.” Deacon said, wracking his brain for something to say that would get him a little more of that sweet attention. “But yeah, I was there when we shipped him out to the Capital Wasteland. It was all very hush-hush, cloak and dagger the whole nine yards. Not even a handful of people knew about it at all.”

“Shipped him out? So he traveled by boat then.” X6 said and if this had been a real interrogation Deacon would have asked for the thumbscrews right now to make up for this blunder. Maybe inflicting pain on your victims had been the wrong strategy all along and all you had to do was drive them mad with promises.

“Don't I get anything for sharing that?” Deacon asked.

He was rewarded with a condescending pat on his cheek but X6 did kiss him again, hard and passionate. His tongue nudged against his mouth and Deacon couldn't get it open fast enough. At the first contact of their tongues he moaned, pressing against X6, licking into his mouth only to be rudely pushed back, the taste of him – sugary frosting, copper and what Deacon thought ozone tasted like, sharp and unnatural – lingering on his tongue. He pulled at his bindings, needed to grab X6 by the neck and keep him down with him and kiss him senseless until neither could think straight. The kiss turned open-mouthed and wet, X6 moving against him, claiming him, biting down on his lip, groaning when Deacon returned the gesture.

When they broke apart both of them breathed heavily, Deacon's eyes half-lidded and even X6 looked flushed, his lips glistening with saliva and just begging to be kissed again. Deacon stretched as much forward as he could without dislocating his shoulders, begging silently for another kiss. It seemed X6 was willing to give in, he leaned forward almost automatically and Deacon had already a little parade going on in his mind when X6 pulled back not half an inch separating them and straightened his back. His composure was aggravating. It didn't help either that with the leather coat it was impossible to tell if X6 was as affected by this as Deacon was, who was already half hard in his pants from a few lingering touches and two kisses.

There was silence while they both tried to collect themselves. It was, unsurprisingly, X6 who spoke up first.

“That wasn't so hard, was it? There's more where that came from.”

“You mean, if I spill all my secrets.” Deacon said and somehow managed to sound cocky, despite the fact that all he really wanted was to taste X6 again. He didn't even care what part of him he got, but his mouth watered at the thought of being fed his cock inch by inch because of course that bastard wouldn't let him have it all even in his fantasy.

“I let you keep some for yourself. Now how about you and I talk a little about your safe-houses. Where are they?”

X6's hand was on his cheek again, the warmth of his palm comforting against what quickly became one of the most frustrating experiences of Deacon's life.

“There's, ah, there's one by Bedford Station.” he said, falling back on an old location that had been dropped ages ago. X6 tutted and dug his fingernails into his cheek, too short to be more than uncomfortable but Deacon got the message nonetheless.

“Tell me something I don't already know.” he said and went fluidly from the stick back to the carrot. “If you can name me the location of at least one safehouse I didn't know about, I'll get that shirt off you, how does that sound?”  
It sounded like fucking rapture. X6 managed to rile him up with some light over the clothes petting. He simultaneously dreaded and anticipated what would happen with fewer clothes on.

“Mercer.” Deacon said quick enough to be embarrassing. “By the old Red Rocket truck stop by Sanctuary.”

That one was an open secret. The General took X6 and a good dozen other synths there in the aftermath of the Institute's destruction to recuperate. As expected X6 shook his head, looking at him like a disappointed father.

“Uh, alright. How about the one at Weston Water? You didn't know that one, right?”

If he sounded a bit desperate it was because he was. The Railroad planned to use the place as a safe-house but aborted the plan once it became clear they couldn't keep the mirelurks out for good. It seemed to be news to X6, though who hummed thoughtfully and then nodded.  
“I accept that.” he said and knelt down, actually went down on his knees and meticulously unbuttoned Deacon's shirt. Deacon wanted to cry at the sight, the courser between his legs, keeping eye contact while his clever fingers popped one button after another, each accidental or not so accidental touch making him feel like he was being electrocuted. He could think of a thousand things to do in this position alone and if he only had his hands free he'd set to going through on at least five of them.

His overactive imagination provided him with a 8mm film reel of X6 gagging on his cock, while Deacon had his hands buried in his hair and fucked his mouth until he'd pull him off and come all over his pretty face. X6 would love it, too, and lap up every drop, clean himself like a kitten, greedy for his cum.  
“Shit.” Deacon said, realising he didn't even need X6 to work him up, he managed to do that all by himself. If the smug look was any indication that little excursion into fantasy land had been X6's plan all along. He knew exactly what he was doing to Deacon sitting on his knees like that and he stayed there longer than necessary as he pulled down the shirt until it bunched around Deacon's wrists, his chest and arms fully exposed. There X6 stopped, close enough that Deacon could feel the ghost of his breath over his skin.

“Do you want me to continue?”

“God, yes.”

“How do you find rogue units that have come to the surface?”

That had been one of the Railroad's closer guarded secrets, but the knowledge was useless as it required the Institute still intact. Deacon saw no harm in telling X6, but he wasn't about to sell information for some vague promise of compensation.

“If I tell you, you'll suck on my nipples.” he demanded. X6 raised an eyebrow.

“You have to do more than that to deserve my mouth. I will _touch_ them and that will be more than you deserve already. So far you haven't given me much.”

“No deal. Tongue and teeth or I won't say another word.”

It was a gamble and one that promptly blew up in his face. X6 stood up and stepped away, leaving Deacon topless and panting in the chair.

“I think you've forgotten who's in charge here.” X6 said, while Deacon cursed his own big mouth. “It's me who decides what you get, when and how. You're hardly in the position to negotiate.”

Deacon was aware of that all too well. His last fantasy made him hard and straining in his pants. He'd never drawn out sex this long and it showed. But Deacon wouldn't be where he was today – that was in a good place generally, not tied to a chair specifically – if he gave up easy.

“Yeah? Well, I say you want that info more than I want to get off.”

“Are you willing to bet on that?” X6 was at his side again, just out of reach and speaking so soft that Deacon had to concentrate hard to understand. “You're already desperate, aching for release and I've barely begun. You want to fuck me.”  
Deacon whimpered.

“That's what I thought. All you can think of is me sucking you off, or sitting in your lap and riding you. You would like that, wouldn't you? Fucking into my tight, wet hole while all I can do is hold on and hope you'll let me come, too. I'd hardly prepare myself, I'd want to feel the stretch and burn of you filling me up, I'd need it so bad. Is that what you want, Deacon?”  
“Yes, fuck, yes …” Deacon hung his head low, hips bucking into thin air at the thought alone of making X6 take his cock.

“Too bad.” X6 said and was gone again. Deacon didn't have the energy to see where he'd gone, followed his location only by the sound of his voice. “This isn't your fantasy. Now, are you ready to talk or do I have to leave you here to cool off?”

“No, no. I'll talk.”

“Good. How do you find rogue units?” he said and Deacon was talking before he knew it.

“We keep an eye on any unusual energy signatures.” Mostly because Tinker Tom was convinced aliens brainwashed them, but X6 didn't need to know that. “We don't know where they're coming from. All we know is that occasionally there's a spike on the meter and a synth in the location we trace it to.”

He wondered how much of what he told him was actually news to X6. They agreed on setting this scene at a point before the Institute was destroyed so anything Deacon said wouldn't jeopardise the current Railroad missions. He still had to be careful but it gave him some freedom. The thought that the Institute would have wracked their brains trying to find out how the Railroad was always so quick on the scene when another synth fled, never accounting for the paranoia of one man, amused him.

With his impromptu gamble X6's concession to touch his nipples expired, but he did get a gentle pat on the head and found himself weirdly tempted to nudge into the hand and beg for treats. A scenario for another time perhaps. He wished he'd ditched the wig before meeting up. There was something deliciously pleasant in having his scalp scratched, especially after he just shaved. The skin was sensitive, even now he was acutely aware of the wig moving ever so slightly. He hadn't bothered to fix it properly.

“Good boy.” X6 said almost absent-mindedly. “What happens to the synths next? Where do you take them?”

“No. I can't tell you.” Deacon said, even though there was nothing in the world he wanted more, if only to have X6 touch him some more.

“Do you insist on being difficult?”

Deacon shook his head, groaned when X6 removed the hand on his head.

“No, please. I can't … I won't sell out my friends, not for anything.”

Only part of his desperation was played. Either X6 picked up on it or it was all part of his routine, because he took up his position between Deacon's knees again and said: “Perhaps you need a little more incentive.”

And then his mouth was on Deacon's chest, just below his collarbone and biting down on the soft flesh. Deacon cried out and arched his back. His skin fizzed like a bare wire, receptive to every touch. X6 left a wet trail from his right collarbone to his sternum, the contrast of cold air brushing it with the hotness of his mouth, closing around his skin, was maddening. Deacon tried to keep his breathing level but his lung only worked at half capacity as everytime X6 used his teeth his breath got stuck in his throat and dissipated into nothing. Several bluish-purple marks blossomed under his ministrations, oversensitive to X6 fondling them. It was good and almost too much for him to take while at the same time not being nearly enough to get him off. And he didn't even come close to his nipples. But then he did, enclosing one with his lips and sucking and Deacon almost screamed. At the last second he swallowed the noise and turned it into a breathless whine, his jaw clenched his eyes fixed below him, watching X6 work. He had his eyes closed, one hand resting on Deacon's side for support the other slowly making its way up to his other nipple. He watched with bated breath and despite being ready for it he still had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning when X6 pinched and twisted it between his fingers. It wasn't painful and that was perhaps what surprised him most. He'd expected a courser, at the very least a synth with little consensual sexual experience beforehand, to be rough and unaware of his true strength. But X6 seemed to know exactly how much pressure he needed to apply, how much his fingernails scratching the sensitive buds was enough and within minutes he'd reduced Deacon to a begging mess.

He would have told X6 anything in that moment but it appeared he had other things in mind. Instead of repeating his questions he traveled lower, curled his fingers into his happy trail and smiling when it made Deacon's breath hitch. At the first hint of hands at the button of his trousers, cold sweat broke out on his neck and back. He wanted it so badly, X6's hands or his mouth or anything he was willing to give him, but he was under no illusion that he'd make it easy on him. If he wanted to play with his cock, Deacon was sure it would be a whole other level of hell for him.

And still he chanted lowly under his breath while X6 pulled his pants down, helping along by raising his hips as much as he could: “Yes, yes … oh god, yes, please, yes …”

His cock sprang free, leaking precum and he'd never been so hard in his entire life. He barely noticed the cold, not when X6's face was inches from his cock and his hand buried in the course hair at the base, tugging lightly.

“What do you want?” he asked, and he sounded so detached from it all, Deacon wanted to kick him a little. But mostly he wanted to fuck him.

“Take me in your mouth. God, please, suck me off, I want your lips around me, want to feel you hot and wet around my cock, want your tongue tasting me. Everything, I want everything …”  
“Your wish is my command.” he said with that glimmer in his eye that told Deacon he was in deep trouble.

As X6 took off his glasses and laid them gently at the side, he went beyond caring. X6 pulled his foreskin down and wrapped his lips around the head, doing nothing more, just watching Deacon shiver and moan. The sight alone almost made him cum. His eyes were big, downright innocent, betrayed by the small curl of his lips. Agonisingly slow he swallowed more of his cock, his hand fisting around the base and giving it a cursory stroke. He hollowed his cheeks, sucked long and hard and this time Deacon did scream, shaking in his bonds, trying to fuck into X6's mouth. He held him down easily and set his own pace, jerking what he couldn't swallow, swirling his tongue around the head and along the frenulum.

Stray thoughts bounced around Deacon's brain as he rapidly approached orgasm, one of them being that X6 was made to suck cock, that there was no way anyone was just naturally this good. He sucked harder, made little slurping sounds and that was it Deacon was going to come, he could feel it building in his stomach, rolling around and -

And X6 squeezed the base of his cock, made his orgasm slink back into the buzzing, thrumming mess that was his body.

“Damn it!” he howled, throwing his head back and bucking so hard the chair scraped forward on the floor. It caught X6 off guard, who hadn't anticipated the motion and gagged as Deacon's cock was shoved farther into his mouth. He sputtered and scrambled backwards with a disapproving glare, one that Deacon barely registered as he fought to keep his cool and not demand he be released so he could jerk himself off, stand over X6 and cover him in his cum. That's what he deserved for edging him like that.

Some time passed, it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, before X6 crawled back between his legs and gently massaged his quivering thighs. He was oversensitive, felt as if he'd cum already if not for the coiling knot inside him that begged to be unraveled. He was no longer able to distinguish X6's hands from his mouth and so it took him a while to notice that X6 peppered the inside of his thighs with kisses.

“Where do you take the synths after you find them?” he asked calmly.

Deacon watched his lips move, swollen and slick with spit and precum, pulled himself together to process the message.

“I won't … tell you.” he panted. X6 shrugged as if he couldn't care less either way.

“You only get to cum once you tell me what I want to know.” he said and then he was back on his cock, swallowing it whole and Deacon felt the tip hit the back of his throat, the constriction as X6 fought against his gag reflex and finally allowed him to rest fully in his mouth. He pulled back almost immediately and started where he left of, alternating between bobbing his head up and down and sucking, while he squeezed his balls. Again he came close to the edge and a part of him tried to keep it away, to spare himself the torture of being pulled back from the brink just before he went over. He was reduced to a writhing, moaning mess, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes.

“Let me cum, please, let me … stop doing this to me, please let me cum.”  
X6 ignored him, kept pleasuring him with his tongue and mouth. Deacon looked down and saw X6's free hand shoved down his own pants. He was fucking into his own fist, hips moving with every thrust. His balls pulled tight, he was ready to come, wanted so badly and just then X6 let go and sat back.

“ _Fuck_ ” Deacon cursed, wiping the sweat from his brow on his shoulder. “I'm close, I'm so fucking close, god dammit.”  
“Where do you take the synths?” X6 asked again and Deacon broke. He almost said Bunker Hill, stopped himself at the last second and stuttered out: “Goodneighbor. We- we take them to Goodneighbor.”

“That's what I wanted to hear.” X6 said and took him in his mouth again.

It didn't take much, Deacon was already teetering on the edge. He sucked, dragged his tongue along the vein along his cock and Deacon fell apart, shook and cursed and cried as he spilled into X6's mouth, his feet cramping as his toes curled in pleasure. X6 took it all, swallowed his load and even licked his lips once he let go of Deacon with a soft pop.

All the strength left him. If not for the rope keeping him tied to the chair he would have slumped oer. He'd never come this hard. White spots still danced in his vision. He blinked to chase them away.

His eyes fell on X6, still kneeling on the ground but legs spread wide, cock pulled free from his trousers, and stroking himself hard and fast. He was close, mewling and biting his lip to keep his noises down. And then he was coming and the expression of his face almost made Deacon cum again, that devastation as his orgasm overwhelmed him and crashed over him. He caught his cum in his hands, Deacon saw it spurting between his fingers, running down his hand and wrist.

And then there was just both their breaths, loud and heavy mingling with each other as they both came down from the high. Deacon's wrists and shoulders had begun to ache some time ago, he really needed to be cut loose soon, but all he could think was, that X6 was gorgeous. The way he sat there, eyes and mouth in a slight o-shape as if he was surprised he could feel this intensely. He looked younger than usual, a little bit confused even. Half a year ago the vocabulary Deacon used to describe coursers had involved some crass words, none of them complimentary. Adorable certainly hadn't belonged to them.

But that was what X6 was and right then Deacon proved that no matter how good and simple a situation was, like enjoying the afterglow of really good sex, he could fuck it up in no time.

“I think I'm in love with you.” he said. X6's eyes widened in shock.

 

Ah, shit.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon for X6 is totally that he's suave as hell when he wants to be. Like, have you heard him talk to Trashcan Carla ingame? He's downright sultry and I love it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wrote this. Then I rewrote it. Then I deleted the entire thing and rewrote it again. Rinse and repeat and this has to be my seventh attempt and I just. can not. get it. right. It is frustrating beyond measure, so I'm just uploading this, so I can mark it finished and maybe some day (read: never) I'll come back to it and finally write the properly heartwrenching, angst-filled love confession that I had in my head when I started this little thing.

X6 walked across the yard in long strides, looking neither left nor right. Deacon spotted him the moment he emerged from the Castle interior and hurried his step to catch up. He brushed past him without another glance, only the tight set of his jaw betraying he had recognised him and ignored him deliberately. Deacon was left standing in everyone's way, shoulders slumped and fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose, berating himself for being a colossal idiot. The only thing he had to do was keep his mouth shut in the few minutes of post-orgasmic haze until his higher brain functions returned to their assigned seats. But no, he had to blow it and it irked him that the thing he blew was not X6's cock but their friendship.

Their weird, probably unhealthy friendship that was based on mutual hate laced with respect and the notion that if they worked together instead of against each other, they could achieve all the goals they set themselves. It had been a glorious few weeks up until Deacon, keeper of secrets, superspy, paranoid about revealing even the slightest information about himself, spilled the one tad of information that X6 was never supposed to know.

When the words had left his lips, neither moved much, both staring at each other in shock. Deacon at his sudden inability to keep anything to himself and X6 … well, he didn't know what X6 was shocked about. At the thought a human could be in love with a synth or just that Deacon was so presumptious as to ruin their little setup of fucking shit up and fucking each other with something as base as _emotions_.

Deacon at least knew when not to dig himself in deeper. He suppressed the instinct of trying to explain himself, swallowed down the stuttered apologies and half-hearted jokes. Instead he looked at his knees, bound shoulders stinging with pain but not daring to ask X6 to cut him loose. But that's what he did, and Deacon almost wished he hadn't. His movements were cold and calculated. He didn't hurt him but when the rope fell to the ground and Deacon was able to massage the feeling back into his wrist, X6 left without another word. The door slamming shut behind him rang in Deacon's head and made it ache.

That had been several weeks ago and ever since X6 pretended he was air. He didn't look at him, didn't speak to him, left the room when he entered and didn't react to any of his little notes. He wasn't even sure if he read them.

Mostly they read _I lied_ and _I didn't mean it_. As the days passed they changed to simply _I'm sorry_. They went unheeded. Eventually Deacon gave up, reasoning that he had to face X6's non-verbal answer to his confession, even if he didn't like it. He wouldn't stalk the poor man if it was clear Deacon wasn't wanted anymore.

But his absence left a hole, one Deacon was desperate to fill.

 

“I'm sorry, Deacon, I wish I could go out with you and stir up some trouble, but I'm busy.” The General said not without sympathy. Word of their falling out had spread quickly among the castle. Not everyone was as heartbroken over it as Deacon, seeing as people were once again allowed to enjoy their desserts in peace. But the General never failed to give a bit of empathy when it was needed.

“Come on, boss, you've been cooped up in here for days. Time to get your boots on the ground, your hands dirty, show your people you're right there with them.”

“I _am_ right there with them, that's why I have my hands full trying to keep the peace between four factions, only one of which is actively trying to work with the others.” The General sighed and put away the report they'd been reading before Deacon came in with the suggestion they spend more time together. They pinched the bridge of their nose and said:   
“I'm going to regret telling you this, but that thing you had with X6 was good for morale. It could have done with a little less extortion, but people saw a courser being friends with a human and that made everyone work closer together. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but ever since you stopped being seen together I have more reports of insults spewed in the hallways, childish pranks going way out of control … I had to break up more brawls than I care to count and at this point I don't really care what I'm unleashing on the Commonwealth by saying this, but I _need_ you and X6 together. Like it or not, you're the center of attention and people follow your example. If you can't go back to the way it was, at least find a way to be civil to each other. Please?”

Deacon nodded but didn't look at the General. Being reminded of this disaster wasn't what he'd come here for, so he turned and left. And almost ran into X6 on his way out.

He must have waited by the door for an audience with the General himself but as it was they both stood as if frozen in time, staring at each other. The door fell shut behind Deacon as his fingers glided off the frame, clenching to keep himself from grabbing X6's coat and begging for his forgiveness. He'd proven before that making spontaneous decisions wasn't his greatest skill.

He looked bad, Deacon noted, as if he hadn't slept properly. X6 usually took good care of his body, it being Institute property in his mind, but now his skin was pale and ashy, even what little Deacon could see. Synths didn't really get sick, but their bodies could simulate the symptoms, sometimes against their will. Glory tended to get sniffly and feverish when she hadn't been in the field for too long and grew restless. Deacon wondered if something similar happened to X6.

“Hey.” he said lamely.

X6 nodded. It wasn't a real greeting but it was better than watching him leave without a word. Emboldened by this small success, Deacon went on.

“General told us, me really, to get along. Something about morale. So I know you're not big on the whole friendship-deal with me anymore, but you think we can at least pretend to be close buddies in public? So people will see us and not beat each other up?”

X6 didn't answer. Deacon waited for what he felt was a polite amount of time, but his hopes of going back to at least talking to each other had been slim to begin with. He'd royally fucked this up and now he had to deal with it.

Under his scrutinous gaze Deacon felt raw and laid bare, as if the ex-courser had some kind of truth-ray programmed into his brain. He used to like that feeling of someone being able to read him, but now it just made him feel awful.

He left X6 where he stood but was once again stopped from leaving. Halfway down the hall X6 called him back.

“I can't give you what you want.” he said. Deacon turned around, hadn't counted on X6 speaking at all, much less allude to what happened between them.

For the first time he noticed how small X6 looked when he didn't keep his back straight. It made something inside Deacon twist, to see him this vulnerable out where anyone could walk past and see.

“I don't want anything.” he blurted out. X6 shook his head.

“You want a relationship. You made that clear when you told me that … when you told me.”  
He couldn't even say the word. And suddenly Deacon knew exactly what this was all about. And how much bigger of an idiot he was than previously assumed.

“I don't want anything.” he repeated, more sure this time and bridged the gap between them until they stood face to face. He cupped X6's chin in his hand and gently lifted it up. “Nothing you don't want to give.”  
X6 opened his mouth to speak but seemed to have lost his words. Not that the Institute had been big on teaching their synths the vocabulary for this kind of situation in the first place. Deacon hated them more than ever. X6 hadn't ignored him. He simply hadn't known how to respond.

He dragged his thumb across X6's jawline, noting displeased that his skin felt as dry as it looked, but even so he had never been more beautiful. His eyes fluttered close as he subconsciously leaned into Deacon's touch, His lips were parted slightly, enough to make Deacon feel his warm breath ghosting over his own lips as he leaned in for a kiss.

It was short and close-mouthed, more a statement than any real intimacy. When he pulled back, X6 followed until their chests touched.

“You don't have to say anything.” Deacon said. “Or do anything. Just stand there and listen to me, alright?”  
X6 nodded ernestly, the clear direction putting him at ease. Even Glory still had traces of that old synth brainwashing in her, responding to clear orders better than to vaguely worded requests. X6 had been free of the Institute for little over three months and was reluctant to shed his old conditioning.

“I didn't mean to jump you like that, with my confession.” Deacon said and that seemed to be the right beginning since it made the words in his head float easier onto his tongue. “I just saw you and you were gorgeous and I just had the best orgasm of my life and I couldn't help myself. But I was serious. I do love you. No, don't say anything.”   
X6 shut his mouth again and he relaxed a little in Deacon's hold.

“We take things slow. One day at a time. We figure out what you want, if you … and with whom and whatever else needs figuring out.”  
“It wouldn't be a traditional relationship.” X6 argued but it was a feeble argument and they both knew it.

“Neither of us is exactly normal. We can do this. I'll show you, teach you. If you want, of course. Only if you want.” he added hastily. X6 standing so close to him had made him optimistic, perhaps undeservedly so. But X6 leaned in and let himself be hugged tight.

“I have … missed your company. But I don't know if I can feel love. The scientists said synths can't and they've rarely been wrong. But I have a deep affection for you. I don't know if that's enough …” he trailed off but Deacon was there already.

“It's enough.” he said. “You're enough, more than that. God, X6, you're fantastic and I love you and I _really_ , really want to fuck you.”

There he went again with the word vomiting. You'd think as a spy and professional liar he could keep a lid on that. X6 brought that out in him. He was more than glad that they'd never met when the Institute still stood.

But instead of having ruined things again, X6 merely chuckled at his statement.

“That can be arranged.” he said and it was the most sexy thing Deacon ever heard.

That was, until about two hours later when X6 came with Deacon's name on his lips.

 


End file.
